


Stop it with the scissors!

by NoMatterTheOceans



Series: Feysand Holiday Fluff Fest [3]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21549292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoMatterTheOceans/pseuds/NoMatterTheOceans
Summary: Part of my Feysand Holiday Fluff Fest!!Prompt: i’m absentmindedly making snowflakes in class and you’re the nerd who can’t quit glaring at me every time you hear my scissors
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Series: Feysand Holiday Fluff Fest [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552855
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	Stop it with the scissors!

Rhys hated English class.

It was a stupid class anyway. What was the point of learning so many things about grammar and literature when, as a Senior, he already knew he was going to study Economics next year, and he couldn’t have cared less about Shakespeare.

Plus, it had started to snow today and he really wanted to get out of here and enjoy the winter weather with Az and Cass. They were already out, but he still had another twenty minutes to go, and he didn’t know how he was going to get through it.

Even his usual ray of sunshine in this class wasn’t of help today. Because Feyre was starting to annoy him. He wouldn’t have thought it was possible. He usually spent his English classes stealing glances towards her, admiring the way she ruffled with her hair or the small smile that spread on her lips when she enjoyed a passage in a book they were studying. Yes, Feyre was the highlight of this class, usually.

Not today.

Because today she had apparently decided that she had more important things to do than listening to their teacher, and she was cutting up weird shapes in a stack of paper. Very noisily.

He tried to focus on the lecture in front of him and ignore the incessant noise of the scissors, but Feyre was sitting just beside him at the back of the class, and there was no ignoring her when she was this close.

Still ten minutes to go before he could run outside and enjoy the first afternoon of the year with snow on the roads.

Still ten minutes of Feyre’s constant commotion beside him.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Can you cut it out with the scissors already?”

She looked up at him with a dazed look in her eyes, and as he gazed inside them, he immediately felt guilty. But she didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she look as if she was coming back from a dream.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he answered, stumbling on his own words, unable to look away from the blue-grey eyes he liked so much, “it’s just that I’m trying to focus and the noise of your scissors is bothering me.”

She laid the scissors on her desk. “Sorry.”

They stayed silent for a minute, but Rhysand’s mind wasn’t any more focused. And Feyre seemed to catch up on that.

“You know, I don’t think it’s my scissors’ fault that you hate English class so much. Can I go back to making these now?”

Ashamed at knowing she was right, he just nodded at her, and she picked up the scissors. And for a good five minutes, the class continued while Feyre was cutting through paper in varied shapes.

“What are you doing, anyway?”

She turned to him and smiled. “Can’t focus on Shakespeare, huh?”

“Nope. So?”

“I’m making paper snowflakes for the tables at the Winterfest.”

Oh no. He’d tried avoiding the subject around her, and now she was the one talking about it. Because he really wanted to invite her to the dance, he had even prepared a speech explaining to her why she should agree to go with him. That had been a month ago. And now the dance was only four days away and he still hadn’t asked her and she was probably going with a date by now.

He wanted to change the subject, but he didn’t know to what, so he just said whatever came into his mind.

“You’re on the organization committee?”

Great way to change the subject. He could have facepalmed himself right now. But Feyre didn’t seem to register his awkwardness, she just answered.

“Not really, but they needed help for the decorations so I proposed to help.”

“Oh.”

What was he supposed to say now? She didn’t seem to be waiting for an answer, but he really wanted to ask her out.

“So are you going with a date?”

The scissors stopped moving. Smooth, Rhysand, really smooth. She turned to him slowly.

“Why?”

“No reason, just… chatting.”

“Oh.” Was it disappointment on her voice? No, he was probably imagining it. He knew for a fact that Helion had asked her out and she’d said no, and he knew Tarquin had planned on asking her to go as his date. She was probably going with him, and that was why she had turned down Helion. Because really, why would anyone turn down Helion if given the chance? Even he wouldn’t have said no. It had to be something other than disappointment. It had to.

“I’m not going to the dance on Saturday.” Feyre’s statement took him by surprise.

“What? Why?”

“Nobody asked me to go.” Why was she lying? She knew Helion was his friend and he was bound to know about her telling him no. But she wasn’t done talking. “No, that’s not true. Tarquin and Helion both asked me if I wanted to go with them. What I mean is, nobody _ that I want to go with _ asked me. Yet.”

She was staring at him intently, and he felt heat creep up his cheek. Did she.. Was she waiting for him to ask? Or was he reading the signs completely wrong?

Just at that moment, the bell started to ting and he jumped on his feet, not knowing how to handle what had just happened. He started to gather his things, his cheeks flushed all the way to his ears, and was ready to go when Feyre got up and gently grabbed his hand to make him look at her. God, she was pretty when she smiled.

“Just do it, Rhys. It’s in four days and I still need to find a dress.”

He kept staring at her, the words stuck at the bottom of his throat. But she didn’t let go of him, staring into his eyes expectantly. Finally, his heart slowed down enough for him to focus and speak.

“Do you want to go to the Winterfest with me?”

The smile turned into a grin.

“Took you long enough.” And with that, she gave him a peck on the cheek, and she was gone.


End file.
